OUR BOYS & GIRLS.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 907, 19 July 1889, Page 5

OUR BOYS & GIRLS.

FROM HOUSE TO HOUSE

By -Jessie 0. Glasier

(Continued.)

‘l’ve come to see you, and give you these/ said the clear, childish voice, as the little visitor advanced and held out the daffodils half shyly. ‘I suppose you are Guy ? And how did you hurt yourself ? lam so very sorry !’ ‘ Yes, I’m Guy—more’s the pity,’ said the boy, impatiently brushing his tumbled curls back from his high white forehead. ‘ Thank you for the flowers. You’re very kind, I’m sure. Just bring them here, please; you see I can’t stir from this chair,’ and he waved his hand with another quick nervous gesture toward his bandaged ankle. ‘Pony shied and threw me—a week ago yesterday, it was. Might have been worse, I suppose, for it’s only a sprain ; but the doctor did say he’d rather have had a break. It’s bad enough, I can tell you. But now sit down —there’s a low rocker—and tell me what your name is/ he added gently, but with the air of one quite unused to being denied. ‘ And so you came on purpose to see me, Miss Primrose V he asked with a smile, when Eunice had obeyed him. ‘ Shake hands.’

The child put her right hand in his. ‘I said Primwell/ she remarked with some dignity. ‘ I know. But it ought to be Primrose; that just suits you !’ He drew her gently toward him. ‘ I say, just let me try one of these yellow daffys—so. You don’t mind, do you ?’ He was pinning the blossom at her throat with nervous fingers while he talked, and now he tipped back his head to look at her with an artist’s pleasure in his eyes. * You’ve no idea how that bib of colour lights you up. You look as pretty as .a pink!’ •' Eunice regarded him gravely. * You must be mistaken/ she said, t. rawing back slightly. * I’m not pretty. My mother tells me that often. She says little girls should think of their manners and not of their looke, and “ handsome is that handsome does/”

Master Guy seemed to find this very amusing. The corners of his mouth twitched in spite of himself, and the blue eyes grew very merry. He even forgot his pain. What a deliciously quaint little study she was, to be sure ! He had not found anything half so amusiDg for many a long weary Gay. Where had this sweet, sober little piece of primness started from, to walk into hi 3 life so unexpectedly ? Guy studied her again in silence. The little girls he was used to seeing, wore jaunty little blue and scarlet caps and bright-coloured cloaks and dresses.

Their wavy hair floated free around their rosy laughing faces, as they skipped and ran and rolled hoops down the avenue, and played hide and-eeek among the evergreens in the park. They did not talk like grownup people. They lisped, or made delicionsly funny blunders over long words. They could not sit demurely, with folded hands, looking at you so seriously with the faint pink colour coming and going in their cheeks.

‘I wish/ he said aloud, ‘that you would takeoff that big hat. Won’t you, plea e? —I want to see your face.’ Eunice obeyed again. * But I mustn’t stay very long/she said, as if suddenly remembering something, ‘* because it must be mast lunobecn-bime. And my mother may oome home—and there’s the pillow-case.’ ‘ The pillow-case !’

Eunice nodded. ‘ I didn’t do one stitch !’ she said, with a gleam of daring mischief in her face. And then she related all her morning’s adventures. ‘ I get so lonesome,’ she said, * when my mother’s gone to the N.W.E.A.’ To the what ?’

‘ Why, don’t 3'ou know? To the N. W.E. A. That means Zealous—Women’s—Employment—Agency,’ she said slowly, as though reciting something learned by rote. *My mother goes every Wednesday. There’s" a Band of Burden Bearers, too. And the Helping Hands ’ The merriest laugh that the library’ had echoed for many a day interrupted her. ‘I beg your pardon/ cried Guy, as soon as he could recover himself ; * but you’re such a dear little mite, you know, and those long words—oh, it’s too jolly !’ and be laughed again, but to kindly that Eunice joined in, at the last, though she could not quite understand his merriment. His next question puzzled her still more. * And so you started out to seek your fortune, little Una? And where is your snow-white palfrey ?’ he asked playfully, his face growing fanciful. ‘I don t know what you mean/ said she, with wonder in her brown eyes. ‘ What is a palfrey ? And you shouldn’t call me Eunio ; my mother doesn’t approve of nicknames.’

‘But TJna isn’t a nickname at all,’ protested the hoy, ‘and you’d like me to call you that, I’m sure, if you knew the story. Una was a lovely princess who went to seek her Red-Cross Knight.’ The child’s eyes had been growing larger and darker than ever. She clasped h6r hands together and bent forward eagerly. ‘Oh, who was the Red-Cress Knight?’ she interrupted softly. ‘lt sounds like a fairystory.’ ‘ fhat’s just what it is—the best one I know. The knight w ore a rad cross on his shield—that’s how he got his name ; and he fought dragons and killed them, and Saracens. And nothing could hurt him because he wore the Red Cross. See —here’s the book ; I was reading it over only yesterday.' He fumbled among the books and papers scattered over a table within easy reach ffom his chair, and brought out a large thin volume, full of the most exquisite illustrations, which he held open for Eunice’s gaze. * O—oh 1’ she sighed softly, as, leaning over his chair, she spelled out the title at the bead of the page, The Faery Queen. ‘And is this Una, the princess? And did she walk along-so—beside a lion? Oh, I wish I could read about it!’ she cried, pointing to the picture before her. *My mother thinks fairy stories are foolish—but I don’t/ she. declared, in a burst of confidence, drawing another long breath, her face glowing with delight. Gny laughed again at this. He put his arm around the little girl and drew her nearer to the great arm chair. ‘You shall read it. Yes, that’s Una. Isn’t she beautiful ? And see how protecting the grand old lion looks. See how she lays her little hand on the old fellow's back without a bit of fear. That’s one of the prettiest parts of the story, I think/ and the boy’s fine, pale face grew dreamy again. * The lion came upon Una resting in the wood, and when he saw her, so innocent and beautiful and helpless, with no one to take care of her, instead of rushing at her and eating her up, he grew as mild as possible in a moment* and fawned at her feet; and after that he was h*r protector—that is, till he was killed, poor old beast! They travelled miles together. He would not leave her, and nobody dared to molest her. You shall hear all about it. And now don’t you like me to call you Una ? I declare/ he added suddenly, looking from the picture to the child’s face, * she has eyes like yours ! Just so big and soft. And there’s another thing; I was feeling as savage as a wild beast this morning, cooped up here, with nobody to say a word to, and this confounded ankle—l beg your pardon, but you can’t know how it pains me—but just see how you've tamed me, Princess. I don’t look now as if I wanted to devour anybody, do I?’

They both laughed merrily at this, and in the midst of their fun the astonished, maid appeared at the door. ‘And will ye want your lunob now, Master Guy ?’ she began. ‘Of course we do,’ interrupted the boy gayly. * I hadn't thought of it, Mary, but I’m actually hungry. And, Mary, bring us something particularly good ; you know I don’t have company every' day/ he added, as the kiod-hearted servant obeyed joyfully, wondering 1 what had come over, Master Guy, to he sure !’ (To be continued.)